That was when they noticed that every musician on the stage was wearing mourning black. That was when they shut up. And when the conductor raised his arms, it was not a symphony that filled the cavernous space.
It was the song of Eyllwe.
The song of Fenharrow. And Melisande. And Terrasen. Each nation that had people in those labor camps.
I am sick to my stomach
— May 03, 2026 09:33AM
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